The Darkest Affliction
by chasingseraphim
Summary: Torin can't help but feel a bit resentful as he sees each warrior falling in love while he can't even enjoy a simple touch. Is it possible that Torin's turn has finally arrived? *Set during the Darkest Seduction - read quick note*
1. It was All Just a Dream

**Quick Important Note: Slight Spoiler Warning (no spoiler in this paragraph)!** Slight, possible spoiler alert for those of you who did not yet read The Darkest Seduction. It's not exactly a major spoiler to Paris' story, but it still is a slight spoiler in general. If you are the type of person who does not like to hear _ any_ details of an unread story, then please stop reading right now, and come back another time ;)

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><p>Chapter 1:<em><strong> It Was All Just a Dream<strong>_

Torin was pissed. It was all a dream. It was _literally_ all just a dream! He should have expected for Cronus to twist his side of the bargain, but at the mention of a woman's touch, Torin's brain slightly lost reason. Key word _slightly_. He had enough sense to ask about the usual things that can go wrong with such a vague bargain. Not a child, not an old lady, not dead. All things were a go. All bases were covered, weren't they? Guess not.

Reality. Who the hell would have thought to ask for the experience to be _real_? Not to _feel _real, but to _be _real. He might as well have been in his bed waking up from a very vivid wet dream. Torin let out a heavy sigh as he closed his eyes. Even since his "birth", he only concentrated on his duties and never got a chance to bed a woman. Torin rolled his eyes at the thought.

_Never got a chance, my ass._ Oh, he's had plenty of chances. His pale-white hair had an unnatural silver tint and was a stark contrast to his black eyebrows. His sensual face was a feast to female eyes, and his emerald eyes held a playful gleam which added a hint of boyish appeal to his face. Oh yes, he's had plenty of chances with women, but he never took them. His first priority was his duty to Zeus, and so he always put off women for another time.

Torin remembered the last time he touched a _real_ woman. A woman who he lusted from afar ages ago. It was a simple caress that was forever burned into his memory and hand. A blessing turned into a disaster. His would-be lover died and the Black Plague spread. The caress that bought a momentary joy shattered his hope of ever being with a woman and it brought him back to his harsh reality. Ugh, that word again. _Reality_.

Torin felt cheated. His blissful experience with the dream woman was a lie. He only dreamt and daydreamed of such things, and had been limited to dreams since the opening of Pandora's box. Torin, the Keeper of Disease, could not have any skin contact with a living being without the chance of a plague spreading. He tried to isolate himself from the group as much as possible so that there would be no chance of accidentally touching his brothers. They would not get sick but they would be highly contagious to mortals. Torin let out another sigh.

Cronus was such a bastard. Cronus got what he wanted out of the bargain. He needed someone to hold onto the mysterious All-Key that could supposedly unlock anything. Now why the hell would Cronus give that up? Torin's brain was ticking and before he could ask all that he wanted, Cronus threatened to take back his offer. He knew something was up when Cronus threatened to withdraw his deal if Torin kept asking more questions. But he couldn't let such an opportunity go. Torin was just so desperate for a woman.

The most recent woman he "had" (again, excluding Cronus's damn dream woman) was Cameo. Cameo was a fling, mostly. If they can call it that. Cameo, the keeper of Misery, held the all the world's sorrow in her voice. It made you want to stab yourself, jump off a bridge, or just probably stab your ears to get away from such grief. A friendship quickly bloomed when they understood each other's loneliness. Cameo could clear out a room by speaking, and Torin purposely steered clear of a room with living beings. Somehow their relationship changed from friends who enjoyed each other's company to friends who _enjoyed_ each other. It was a strange type of friends with benefits, but it worked for them. They knew it wouldn't last and understood that they would use each other to blow off some steam. A _lot_ of steam.

Torin took a quick glance at the computer screens before heading to bed. He was looking forward to—no, dreading sleep. Wonderful—no, terrible dreams were waiting for him in his bed. Torin flopped onto the bed and laughed bitterly. Since when had he dreaded sleep? Ever since that life-like dream, that's when. He was disappointed to find out his second encounter did not feel as real.

He started to dream more often and when he did, his dreams were filled with _her._ She was completely different from the fair-haired, clear blue-eyed woman who caught his eye over four hundred years ago. The dream woman held only one similarity to Cameo: dark hair. Cameo's silver eyes were piercing, and sometimes he swore she could see his misery; the kind of misery that solitude brings. Cameo was a kindred spirit of sorts. Both were miserable in their own way. The dream woman's eyes were a far cry from blue or silver. They were a warm honey brown, and Torin hated to sound like a cliché, but he could drown in them. Drown in those liquid brown eyes and forget the solitude.

Each time he woke up, he felt aggravated and lonelier than he had ever been. He used to look forward to his dreams. He used to dream of Cameo asking for more than what they had, and how he would finally be able to touch her, taste her. Regardless of how much he wanted to remember, he would forget the details upon waking. The dreams of _her_, however, had the opposite effect. He remembered most of the details, and they no longer seemed like dreams, but memories. Hauntingly sweet memories that would never be. Torin closed his eyes and hoped his mind would dream her up again. He didn't care if he woke up in bed alone. At least he would have a taste of heaven again, even if it was only in dreams.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> I rated this M because I do plan on writing a lemon in the future (I mean, how can I _not_? Haha). As for language, there is slight cursing, but I don't exactly know if certain words automatically make the rating M rather than T, so I decided to just rate it as M first rather than upping it from T when the lemon hits.

Reviews not required, but welcome! I know how some people like to criticize, just please make it constructive :) I won't turn away praises either :P


	2. Is This a Cult?

Chapter 2: _**Is This a Cult?**_

_Shit, shit, shit_._ I'm going to be a lab specimen! _Sun sat in the corner of her glass prison, and waited for her captors to visit her. She didn't want them to visit at all. Who knew what they were going to do to her? She wanted them to visit for their conversation. Not with her, of course. She couldn't hear through the thick glass, but she could read lips. Kinda. The only words she was able to make out because of their frequent use were "hunters" and "demons."

She didn't know how long she was trapped here. A couple of days? A week or two? It felt like forever. She tried to stay optimistic. Maybe this was all a crazy mistake and this was all part of a show she unwittingly signed up for. Never mind, optimism was making her sound like an idiot.

Sun didn't know how many times she fell asleep during her capture. Every so often, they would pump a gas that put her on the brink of sleep and question her. She hated to give those suckers what they wanted, but it made her more compliant. She could never give them what they wanted though, so she won in a sense.

Sun hated the effects of the gas. After the tireless questioning, she would give into sleep. Sun didn't know how deeply the gas could keep her unconscious so sleep was dangerous. Ironically, she only felt safe in sleep and feeling like a damsel in distress, she dreamt of being saved (preferably by a hot man, but a woman would do if it meant getting out alive).

She was always a dreamless sleeper, and it bothered the hell out of her that she only remembered snippets when she did. Lately she would have recurring dreams of one scene that made her feel safe. A bedroom with a crapload of monitors. Sun snickered. Obviously she would feel safe with a bedroom that had every nook and cranny monitored. Oh, the things her imagination could dream up.

Her jailers were taking their sweet time in deciding what to do with her. They never entered her cell, but questioned her through the speaker. Sun could tell they were getting impatient and it would only be a matter of time before they did worse things to her. Prayer helped to ease her panic when she first found herself trapped. That's when she took in her surroundings and felt something around her neck. It felt… unnatural.

Sun had tried everything she could to get the collar off. Although it looked more like a necklace, she called it a collar because that is what it ultimately was. The chain on her neck restrained her the way a collar restrained animals. Hence, the necklace was a collar. Sun winced as she felt the bruise around her neck. She pulled the necklace in so many different directions hoping it would break the flimsy looking chain. Epic fail. She was rewarded with a nice red ring around her neck for her efforts.

She would have considered the necklace cute, _if_ it was an ordinary necklace. An ordinary necklace would _not_ shock you in the middle of praying. Okay, truth be told, she was wishing. Wishing and praying the living daylights out of herself. Praying she would make it out alive and wishing that the necklace would snap off. What else could you do when you were alone and stuck in a glass prison?

The necklace was short enough that it bordered on being a choker. The design was quite simple. The ends of the thin silver box chain were not held together with the usual spring ring or lobster clasp. Instead, a dainty padlock connected each end and it rested on the hollow at the base of her neck.

"Stupid lock," Sun muttered. She knew the shock came from the lock. She didn't know the logistics of how it worked or if someone was watching her on camera, but the more intense the prayer-wishing was, the stronger the shock was. It went from a tiny static electricity to a shock that nearly crippled her. Is that what lightning felt like? She stopped her experiments in case her captors returned. Apparently the lock couldn't short-circuit itself. _Damn it._

She kicked the glass wall in frustration. She just wanted out. Was that too much to ask? And now she was stuck in some prison probably because of some religious psychopath who made a cult. The nuns told her she was special. That God blessed her so that she may help others. It's not like she flaunted what she could do. Hell, she didn't exactly know _what_ she could do. Sure, she had a knack for making people feel better, but that's because she was familiar with first aid and old remedies. Becoming a doctor wasn't an option. All that blood…. It made her uneasy.

Sun stood up as two men walked into the compound. They weren't her usual company: Nose and Scrawny. Nose and Scrawny weren't too bad. They didn't bother her, she didn't bother them. Okay, that was a lie. She tried to bother them as much as she could by banging on the walls and asking for help while they played with their microscope and petri dishes.

These new visitors were not part of Nose and Scrawny's group. They did not fiddle with test tubes or needles. They fiddled with the knives on their person as they made their way to her wall. Like Nose and Scrawny, these men had an infinity loop tattooed on their wrist. One of the men carried rope. Blood drained out of Sun's face. She _was_ captured by cult loonies and now they wanted to see what made her tick!

"We tried it the boring way. We asked nicely, but you are just so stubborn," said the rope-carrying brown-haired man. He was shorter than the _very_ blond-haired man who was currently playing with knives. Sun did not read Rope's lips. She was too busy staring at Blondie playing with his knives.

A click emitted from the speakers, snapping her out of her trance. The click meant it was time to talk. Sun looked at Blondie's face. He would be handsome if he wasn't scowling at her. He smiled menacingly at her. "Now we're going to do it the fun way. _Now_ you're going to tell us about the Lords," Blondie sneered. "After," he continued, "I pay you back in full for attacking my team."

Sun gaped. Pay back? Pay back for what? _They_ were the ones who attacked _her_. She didn't know how it happened or how to explain it, but her body felt malicious intent once she stepped out of the old book store. Adrenaline kicked in. She was ready to run, but she was already surrounded.

Before she knew what was happening, her attackers went from surrounding her to being flung away from her. Their bodies were thrown as if an invisible hand swatted them away like flies. One man must've hid somewhere because she was electrocuted—maybe tasered—before she could escape. Sun wasn't sure what baffled her more as she relived the memory. The fact that she might have possibly flung those people away or that those people attacked her.

"I keep telling you! I don't know who you're talking about!"

"Stop _lying_!" Blondie banged his open hand on the glass wall. Sun jumped. "We _know_ you associate with one of their allies." Sun's brows knitted in confusion. Who on earth were they talking about?

Blondie shamelessly eyed her body. Sun crossed her arms over her chest and did the only thing she could think of. Glare. A black fitted tee and jeans could hardly be considered provocative, but Blondie's eyes gobbled her up like a little treat.

"You've been wasting your time! I don't know any lords or their allies or whatever. I don't even know who _you_ guys are," Sun spat out. "Now please, just let me out of here," her previous fiery tone gone, she all but whispered the end. She was hungry, tired, scared, and pissed. Hungry for some food and not some weird gas substitute, tired of being stuck in a prison by crazy people, and too scared to show that she was pissed off for being captured for something that had nothing to do with her.

"Still denying the truth, huh?" Ropes shook his head.

"Barry, let's teach this pretty thing a lesson about what happens to people who resort to violence and lies," Blondie smirked and Sun could see the sadistic gleam in his eyes. She shivered.

Barry, the one carrying the ropes, hit a button on a panel. A gas was being pumped through the vents, and Sun started to feel sluggish.

Blondie looked smug. "Look, I'm letting you out just like you wanted."

"Just watch yourself, Derek." Did she just hear a tone of warning in Barry's voice? A chill ran down her spine. Her instinct had never steered her wrong before, but now she desperately wanted to believe it was wrong. Her instinct was telling her that now was the time to be truly afraid.

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><p><strong>AN:** A grand total of 2 reviews! I'm quite shocked. I thought most people would shy away at the slight spoiler(s). You guys made me extremely happy by reading and reviewing. I just hope I don't disappoint.

**To general zargon:** You were the first to spur on my motivation even more. I hate to admit it, but I love you for reviewing! Especially being the first! I hope you won't be disappointed with the dream-girl. It all made sense in my head.

**To TamedWings: **I'm glad you like it! The lemon won't come in until... well, I don't know when. So you're going to have to wait :x

_Reviews not required, but welcome! I won't turn away constructive criticism or praises either ;)_


	3. A Rude Awakening

**A/N:** I'm not too sure how many of you would question the timing of certain events, so I'll announce it now: For the sake of my story and my brain, Cronus' deal was offered at a different point in The Darkest Seduction. Also, some other events might not be "in order."

I've been meaning to post this up a few days ago (I'm sorry!) But the chapter still seemed unfinished to me (even though it ended well), so I had to write a bit more. I hope the length of this chapter makes up for the wait! Now without further ado...

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><p>Chapter 3: <strong><em>A Rude Awakening<em>**

Torin was happy for them, for all of them. He really was. Did that stop him from feeling pangs of jealousy when he saw each couple roaming around the fortress? Nope. Did he feel a little bitter about it and a little guilty afterwards? Yup. He wasn't sure when, but his desire of touching a female turned to wanting female companionship. Not for a night, but forever. It was harder to ignore the reminders of what he could never have with all these couples around. How could he? His job was to keep watch over the fortress inside and out.

Torin took his virtual round around the inside of the fortress. A very pregnant Ashlyn was heading into the kitchen with a worried Maddox trailing behind her, and Danika and Haidee were in the entertainment room trying to understand the world of video games. The Harpies were nowhere to be found, and Legion, the poor demon minion, was still holed up in her room.

The other Lords were currently on patrol or lounging around with their woman. Hell, even Paris had found someone to call his own. Sex, as they liked to call him, was preparing a trip to the heavens to find his woman. Speaking of women, when was Cameo going to return from patrol? Torin got hard at the thought of Cameo's arrival. Like so many times before, she told him to be naked by the time she got back. Dream-lover had been seeing to his nights less frequently, and Torin needed release. For once, he planned on being a good boy.

:..:..:..:..:

Sun's wrists were chafed raw. Her wrists were hanging over her head, bound together by thick rope. At least the Hunters had the decency to have her sit through the whole interrogation process. One thing she was grateful for and hated at the same time, was that they also bound her legs. Grateful because it meant no one could force themselves and on her, and hated because she could not kick them when she wanted to. The latter is what got her legs bound in the first place.

"Aren't you tired of your little games, yet?" Derek's saccharine voice did not match the cruel look in his eyes. It was just Derek today. _Again_. No sign of Barry. Sun nodded weakly. "Ahh, I knew you would come around eventually." He smiled, and for once, he looked quite handsome. He lightly brushed her cheek with his hand. "Now, tell me, my sweet. What are their plans?" She did not have to ask who _they_ were. All the questions were the same. Where are they planning to go next, what are they planning to do next, what did their base look like, blah, blah, blah.

Sun looked straight at him and said, "They're gonna do your mom. After they bone your sister. Heh." The Hunter would not accept her truths so she started to have fun with her replies. A mom joke here and there, fake answers, it was all good.

Derek slowly dragged the sharp edge of his knife across her leg and snarled "Why do you protect those demons when they cause the whole world to suffer?" After being sliced so many times, not diced, thankfully, the pain was a welcome sting. It was the only indication that she was still alive.

"Because I'm awesome?" Derek slapped her across the face. Sun licked her lip, and tasted the sweet tang of iron. She refused to be handfed by Derek, and her own blood tasted like candy to her empty stomach. He wanted to show her his good side, but the markings on her body proved otherwise.

Derek snarled, "Enough with the foreplay. You're going to wish you told me the truth sooner."

:..:..:..:..:

Sun frantically woke up in a dark room where she did not sleep for a few days. Not by choice. At first, she thought she woke up at home in her room at night, but it was _too _dark to be her room. Too cold. Her tattered clothing did little to protect her from the temperature, and while the cold beckoned her to sleep, her captors thought it best to keep her awake. Whoever was at the controls of the dark room made it impossible for her to get some shuteye. That seemed to be the only purpose of the room.

Sun did not know what was worse. Derek's "foreplay" consisted of being carved and questioned, but at least she got some rest. The "main course" was a new type of hell. Pros: no hitting, no knives, no impossible questions, no Derek. Cons: cold room, dark room, no sleep. The silence and dark were nice at first. It was more enjoyable when there was no sound of Derek and his stupid questions.

Then when her eyes closed for more than a few seconds, loud sounds from speakers would jolt her awake. Sun groaned. Her earlier struggles reopened her cuts and weakened her so she gave up movement altogether. Her bound limbs now ached from lack of warmth and movement. Her sight was useless, and her body screamed for sleep. She had giggle fits, bouts of anger, she ranted, prayed, hummed, sang, and even a few tears were shed here and there. She almost asked to be cut up again. Her fever, which was due to probable infections from her wounds, did not help her delirium.

Click. "How did you enjoy your rest?" Click. Derek's voice was sarcastic.

"_Fuck_ _you_, you stupid blond!" Sun's body tensed in anger. She never threw the f-bomb at a person unless she was truly angry. This was one of those times. She chided herself for her response._ Sleep, I need sleep. Ask for it. _Beg_ if you have to._ She could not think straight even if her life counted on it.

Click. "Now that you had time to think," he ignored her outburst and continued in his matter-of-fact-tone, "What do you know of the demons? Plans? Locations? The box! What of the box? Did they find it?" Click.

Sun blanked out and blinked. Or thought she blinked. It was too hard to tell in the dark. It seemed her eyes were always open in this damn place. _What? _

Click. Derek started banging on what sounded like a desk and she winced. "Come on, now. The answers are all there in your head. Let's try again. Do you know their plans? Where will they go? Do they have the box?" His tone was harsh at first and ended with a hint of desperation. Click.

Sun shut her eyes in pain and shook her head. All these questions were so hard to answer. Sleep. She needed sleep. Just a few minutes would be fine.

"I—" Sun tried to think. _Say anything. Just tell him what he wants to hear. _"They threatened—I promised I wouldn't say anything. If I tell you, will you let me go after… After all this is over?"

Click. "Yes." His voice gentled. "I'll let you go, and I'll have your apartment protected. What are their plans? Do you know where they're headed? What about the box? Do they have it?" Each question came out faster than the last. Sun heard the drumming of Derek's fingers on the desk. She did not hear the customary click that followed the turning off and on of the speaker.

_Ugh, why all at once? Stop the tapping. It's about a box now?_ Sun's brain ached as it spit out thoughts simultaneously. She could not even handle her own questions. She did not think Derek would keep his word, but it was a string of hope she was willing to hold onto. _Demons… demons like to… _"Uh… plans… Yes! They plan on taking over the world. Spread more evil. I don't know where. Maybe they already started?" _Take over the world? I couldn't think of anything else that sounded more… reasonable?_

"_Spread_ more evil? It's already taken over the world! You're telling me things I already know. Are you trying to lie to me again? I guess you won't be going home."

"NO! No. They want to take over… like, rule the world." Sun inwardly snickered at how ridiculous she sounded.

The speaker was still on and Sun was not sure if he was aware that she could hear his small gasp of surprise. A pause. "_Rule_ the world? The box! They found the box!" There was horror in his voice. Derek snapped, "Tell me about the box! Do they have it?"

Sun whined. _Maybe that wasn't a good answer. Box… Demons and box, bad. Got it. _Her mind wandered for a moment. "They don't have it because I—"

Derek let out a breath of relief and interrupted her, "Good girl. You knew deep down those demons can't have the box. They _must_ not. Where did you put it? Did you hide it? Tell me where it is."

_More questions?_ _I can't take anymore. _Sun's mind scrambled for an answer. _Any _answer that would lead her to freedom. "They don't have it because I destroyed it." _Ha! Take that!_ She was proud of her answer and mentally patted herself on the back. If it was essential for the demons to not have this box, then destroying it would make it permanently unattainable.

Derek roared, "You _idiot_! That box would've helped us win the war!" Sun froze. _I thought no box was a good thing!_

"You _are_ on their side! How else would you know to destroy it? Can't keep all your lies straight without any sleep, can you? You don't deserve to live. You're either with us or you're against us." Sun heard the clatter of a chair and the cocking of a gun. The dread she felt all those days ago returned with a vengeance. _This_ was what her instinct was warning her about.

Light streamed into the room. Sun narrowed her eyes, unaccustomed to seeing such brightness in days. As her eyes adjusted, she saw Derek's silhouette. He was indeed holding a gun. A gun that was pointing at her. Her body froze in fear like a deer caught in headlights.

He walked towards her and trailed the muzzle of the gun from her cheek, down the side of her neck, and stopped at her chest. Right above her heart. "I think you're lying. That's all you've been doing the whole time here. We searched your apartment. You must've hid it somewhere. _Now where is it?_"

Sun gasped. _They know where I live?_ The gun was pleasantly cool against her feverish skin, and for a moment her mind wandered before she snapped back to attention. The box. She shook her head and mumbled, "I don't remember—I don't know. I don't know, I don't know." Sun closed her eyes and prayed for dear life. She knew he was fed up and it did not seem like she would get any more chances.

Derek growled and she felt the gun lift away from her chest. "You _will_ tell me sooner or later. Maybe you need some more persuasion."

Sun opened her eyes and saw him standing. He pointed the gun at her and released the safety. She closed her eyes and ignored the growing electric hum from the necklace as she wished desperately that she was elsewhere. Somewhere safe. An image from her dreams came to mind. A familiar setting of a bedroom with monitors in a background.

The gunshot rang loudly in the dark, empty room. Derek looked at the view before him in disbelief. Excluding himself, the room was empty. The only proof of her imprisonment was the bloodstains left by her previous wounds.

Sun tried to disregard the growing hum of pain radiating throughout her body. The ground was no longer hard and cold, but soft and cushioned? She would have thought herself dead if it wasn't for the pain and oncoming dizziness. She took a peek through cracked lids and saw that she was on a bed. Her mind and body screamed, _Sleep!_ Still bound, she slipped under the covers without hesitation, no questions asked.

:..:..:..:..:

Torin, the protector of the universe, well, the fortress, made his way to the bedroom. The meeting in the living room was more of a good-luck-and-return-safely gathering for Paris. Ashlyn's idea. Attendance was mandatory per Maddox's request. He wanted his kind, pregnant wife happy. She wanted to make sure that Paris knew he was going with all their support.

Torin wore his customary protective gear of clothing that covered him from neck to toe. Black was the frequent color of choice. Black reminded him of his tainted blood. In attempts to feel clean, he used to scrub his skin in the shower until he bled. His blood was no longer red. It was contaminated with Disease and black blood ran through his veins. Yes, black was a fitting choice for his clothes. A constant reminder of his contaminated body.

He sat down on the swivel chair that was situated in front of the many monitors. He quickly perused the outer areas of the fortress through the monitors. Safe for now.

He closed his eyes and exhaled. Disease was unusually agitated and bounced around in his head. It chortled with glee when Torin was in the room with so many living beings, and when he left without touching a single soul, it growled in anger.

_One touch is all I ask,_ the demon huffed.

_I'm sure it's _just_ one. Well, so do I,_ Torin dryly answered.

_Then do it! Just one being. How about Misery? I know you want her. Just one small touch,_ Disease beckoned.

_Shut up! Do you want me to _never_ leave this room?_ Torin snapped and Disease quieted. Give Disease an inch, and it will take a mile. Torin found this threat to be the most useful. If he never left the room (excluding visitors), then Disease would never get a chance to try to persuade him to infect others.

Torin heard a soft sigh coming from his bed, and his eyes snapped open. He quietly walked over to the bed to discover the source. He must have fallen asleep right after his brief conversation with Disease because before him was an unfamiliar sight of a very familiar form. A small figure was under the covers. It was _her_. Dream-lover was lying on her side and only her head poked out. Her back was facing him, but he knew it was her. He knew the colors of her hair. He used to think it was as black as night, but after so many dreams, he knew that although her hair was dark, sunlight sometimes exposed a shade of brown and slight red in her dark mane, like it was doing now. Paris had a mixture of those three colors in his hair, but unlike his noticeable coloring, hers was subtle.

His dream was very different today; generally one would seduce the other. He heard a light snore and found it endearing. She was indeed sleeping deeply. He grinned and in a mischievous tone, he softly said, "Wakie wakie."

He settled behind her on top of the covers. He pressed the front of his body to her back and curled an arm around her small waist. Dream-lover sighed and she leaned back into the heat that was now enveloping her. He felt the curve of her ass resting against his hips. He nearly moaned at the buffered contact. It felt so _substantial_. The sensations were far from illusive, it was genuine.

He closed his eyes and relished the feeling of being so close to someone. He nuzzled the back of her neck, her hair tickling his nose, and needlessly inhaled, knowing he would not be able to get her scent in dreamland. Dreams could only provide so much. He inhaled anyway and got a whiff of sunlight and warmed fruit with a hint of citrus. His demon purred in approval. Strange. He frowned at the sudden appearance of his demon. Why the hell was his demon present? And why did he get an actual scent? He was being cruel to himself by dreaming so vividly.

Torin froze as Dream-lover turned over and tried to huddle closer to his warm body. It was somewhat heartbreaking because he would never be able to experience this for more than a moment. He raised a gloved hand and moved the strands of hair covering the face he has not seen in a while. There were bags under her eyes, a cut on her full lips, and her cheek was bruised. He scowled. What kind of sick dream was this? His eyes wandered over to his gloved hand. _Gloved_. He was never gloved in his dreams with her. Clothed sometimes, yes. But never gloved. Gloved hands would never be able to feel the softness of her skin. Torin jumped off the bed in alarm, heart pounding in his chest. This dream was definitely strange.

The sudden motion caused Dream-lover to stir. He saw her eyebrows knit in annoyance, and she mumbled, "Five more minutes." Her eyes slowly opened, revealing almond-shaped eyes. Her eyes were darker than he thought. Not honey brown. A deep brown, a mix of roasted coffee beans and chocolate. He would have smiled at his musing, but she chose that moment to abruptly sit up, the blanket still covering her small form. She looked around bewilderedly and her gaze landed on him. It seared his blood.

She groaned. In frustration? Torin furrowed his brows at Dream-lover's odd behavior. Something was very off with this fantasy. Her eyes flickered with ire. "Who the hell are you?" There was no recognition of him in her eyes.

Torin all but gaped at a dawning realization. He was very much awake.

This was no dream.

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><p><strong>To my reviewers<strong>: I am well aware that there are only four of you in total, but still, I have a quick message: You guys make me extremely happy. :D

As usual: Reviews not required, but welcome! :)


	4. First Impressions

****A/N:** **My plan was to update at least once a week, but I stumbled upon writer's block for this chapter -_-. Not as much interaction here like I hoped, but I figured you guys would like a little something to keep you going until I get the next one out.

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><p>Chapter 4: <strong><em>First Impressions<em>**

Sun felt the bed shake and mumbled, "Five more minutes." She felt like crap. All she wanted to do was burrow her head under the covers of her comfy bed and sleep it off. Before she could go back to sleep, memories of recent events flashed through her head. She reluctantly forced her eyes open to find herself somewhere new. Clutching the comforter to cover her fevered body, she shot up in a sitting position. Dread knotted in the pit of her stomach as she hastily took in her surroundings. Not the glass prison, or the dark room, but a bedroom. Not her bedroom, but a _stranger's_ bedroom. Derek's possibly?

She barely registered the numerous computer screens in the background as her gaze fell upon a very handsome man. She had a friend who rivaled this stranger's appearance, but he disappeared without so much a "by your leave." She ignored the dull ache in her chest and did a quick assessment of Mr. Sexy, who currently stood a good distance away from her.

White hair and black eyebrows. She immediately thought of the White Queen in the recent Alice in Wonderland movie. She thought Anne Hathaway pulled the look off quite well, but clearly this man was the inspiration for the look. The wardrobes were a big contrast though; the White Queen wore, well, all white. This man was dressed in all black from neck to toe.

With full lips and strong jawline, his masculine face did nothing to mask the air of boyishness his face seemed to carry. Equally, the boyishness did nothing to dampen the sensual wickedness his face conveyed. There was nothing boyish about that. His eyes were an unnatural shade of green. Not a hazel type of green, where the colors were always an in-between of brown, green, or gray, but a pure shade of green: emerald. Her eyes widened as vague images flashed through her mind. A taut naked body pressed flush against hers, hands and lips praising her body with caresses and kisses that left her hot and breathless.

_Get your mind out of the gutter!_ Sun could not believe what she just imagined and how her body responded. Her mind did not remember more details, but it was obvious her body did. A breath caught in her throat and her stomach tightened, leaving a familiar ache between her legs. She used to wake up from some dreams that left her waking up with that throbbing ache, paired with fever. The details always eluded her, but she was no fool at what kind of dreams she was having. The fact that Mr. Sexy immediately triggered the same reactions as her dreams was mortifying. It irritated her. Now was not the time!

She remembered a gun. Did Derek tranquilize her and pass her off to another? Weird. He seemed like the type to follow through and do things himself. He threw a fit when he discovered that Barry took pity and sneaked in a few times to try to heal her wounds. It was sweet and cruel of him. It was kind of him to help her in his small ways but it was cruel that he would not let her go. His actions also had another consequence. Derek punished her with a vengeance while spouting nonsense about her unnatural healing speed. It was all Barry's fault.

She groaned at the thought of the new possible hell that might await her when Derek found out. She noticed Sexy's brows furrowing. What? Did he expect her to be grateful and jump for joy for letting her sleep a bit? This guy wasn't doing any favors for her by doing so. Like Barry, this guy was doing more harm than help. Whoever this guy was, being a looker would not save him from her crankiness. "Who the hell are you?"

The man stared at her. Just… stared. He looked hurt, confused, and straight out horrified all at once.

She raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

He narrowed his eyes in response. "You're… real?" He looked at her suspiciously.

She replied sarcastically, "No, I'm just a part of your imagination. An illusion, if you will."

He scowled. "What are you doing here? _How_ can you be here?"

If he didn't know, then she sure as hell didn't. "If you didn't bring me here then obviously he did." She was both relieved and scared. Relieved because Derek passed her on to someone else, meaning she wouldn't have to suffer from his punishment. Scared because Derek _did_ pass her on to someone else, meaning that this guy had to be worse than Derek.

There was a small pause as her words sank in.

"Are you immortal?" He spoke carefully and slowly. He still looked at her with suspicion but his voice was tinged with hope. It was her turn to stare, and his turn to raise an eyebrow. "Well?"

"Um… I have an immortal soul?" She almost shrugged along with her answer. She didn't know what he wanted to hear. Sun blanched. Derek stuck her with a nutcase who thought she couldn't die. All the Hunters were nutcases in her opinion, but this one had to be the craziest of them all. She quickly added, "But I'm a normal human being! Nothing immortal about me!"

"Ha! Of course. Human!" His cheerless outburst startled her. "If you're not immortal, then have you ever gotten sick before?" Again, that hope.

"Yes…" She didn't notice his face becoming as pale as his hair. "What does that have to do with anything?" She was tired of hearing sentences in question form, even if it was in her own voice. They wanted answers and so did she. Derek didn't answer any of hers, so maybe this stranger would. "Forget it. First of all, who are you?"

"I'm Torin." He was… sad as he said his name. "And you? What's your name?"

"Listen, Torin, I—" She frowned. They broke into her home, beat her (well, Derek beat her), and this Torin guy didn't know her name? She grew furious at the injustice of it. Derek must have not told them her name in order to dehumanize her. It was easier to do things to people if there was no name to match to a face. "After the home invasion you guys did, after he beat me, cut me up, he didn't even tell you my _name_?" The yelling made her dizzy. She was exhausted and still recovering.

She knew it was silly and probably stupid to be mad at such a thing. She had a major concern (like her life), but she didn't want to be a nameless victim if she was going to die. If they were going to kill her in the end, she wanted them to know her name so that their guilt would bite them in the ass later in life.

Torin stiffened. His nostrils flared. "He. Hurt. You?" he asked, voice taut with anger. He quickly closed the distance between them and her eyes widened. Sun saw a gloved hand reaching out towards her, and covered her face with bound wrists. She felt the bed dip from his weight, and shivered when the protective warmth of the comforter left her. She heard a growl.

She lowered her hands to see what he was doing and gasped. Underneath Torin's face, she saw a glimmer of a skull with very sharp teeth. His eyes were no longer green, but glowing red.

Sun was exhausted and still recovering. She assured herself that her mind was playing tricks on her and that she was hallucinating, but her body didn't care. _Those eyes are friggin' glowing red!_

Adrenaline shot through her veins. Fight or flight. Her body decided on both. With all the energy and speed she could muster, she punched him across the face with clasped hands.

:..:..:..:

The stench of blood and infection was no longer trapped by the comforter. Disease went wild with rage rather than with the usual glee the opportunity infection offered.

_What the hell is wrong with you? Still_, Torin ordered the demon. He was seething with fury to see his dream-lover's body in such a state. His emotions must have influenced his demon because it was clawing against the walls of his mind to get closer. It was the first time the demon tried to physically demand something instead of verbally persuading him to move closer.

He took one glance at her body and saw that rope constricted her body. Her wrists were red with rope-burn and Torin assumed the rope that was tied around her legs bruised her skin. Her tattered clothing revealed bruises and lacerations. Most of the cuts were slashes and some cuts were curving with a design. His eyes followed the rest of the curve to see the design and saw that the pattern formed a figure eight, the symbol for infinity.

A growl emanated from him. The "he" she referred to wasn't Cronus. Cronus would not take time to carve a brand that represented Rhea's Hunters. His brain started to think of who dream-lover was and why she was here. He could only think of Rhea. This must be her doing. But why send her to him now? In such a state, no less.

Before he could elaborate on the ideas churning in his head, he heard a gasp. He looked up and felt his face swing to the side. Dream-lover's attempt to distance herself was comical. She moved her legs like a worm while wriggling her body away from him.

Torin rubbed his cheek. _Shit_. He was too distracted. He wasn't sure if he touched her earlier when he thought he was dreaming. That didn't matter anymore. Her punch was a definite skin to skin contact and there was nothing to wonder about. Her effort to escape sealed her fate.

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><p><em><strong>Thank you!<strong>_ To my reviewers and to those of you who put me on **story** **alert**. Forgive me for not thanking you earlier; it's not a review, but it lets me know that you enjoyed it enough to be alerted! :D

_As usual: Reviews not required, but very welcome! Constructive criticism and/or praise is very much appreciated ;) __I look forward to reading them. (And don't be shy, silent readers~~)_


	5. Unanswered Questions

**A/N: **I've been a bad girl... I actually finished this chapter a couple of days ago, but wanted to give it another read before posting it (which happened to be today). But it's here!

_This chapter is for **general zargon**. Happy Birthday! :D_

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><p>Chapter 5: <em><strong>Unanswered Questions<strong>_

"You shouldn't have done that."

"I'm sorry!" Her voice was short of hysterical. "For a second…. Your face, your eyes… Oh God, I'm seeing things," she babbled.

Torin grimaced. She was not seeing things. His eyes must have turned red and his face was probably veiled by Disease for a moment when the demon went wild in his head; something that hadn't happened in ages. He heard her murmuring "Lord save me" and "I'm too young to die." Questions swirled through his head.

Slowly and smoothly, he said, "Calm down. I'm not going to kill you." He swore he heard her mutter "not yet," and continued, "I need some answers first."

He started to prioritize what he should ask first. The coughing would start soon, and he had to know if she was Bait or not. If she was, then like all Bait, she would suffer the same fate as Hunters: death. If she was indeed innocent, then he would have her flashed to a hospital where she _could_ be saved. Fear constricted his heart and guilt clawed within his chest. She would die like his blonde would-be lover.

She whimpered; the reason being that she drew her knees to her chest. The movement caused the deep gashes on her legs to reopen and blood slowly oozed out. It was apparent that her previous energy was waning. Her body was no longer rigid against the headboard but slumped against it, using it for support.

"I swear I don't know anything. I told him everything I know."

"Who's _he_?" The question came out harsher than he anticipated, but he could barely control his temper or his tone. The urge to hunt down and punish the culprit for her injuries was undeniable and disturbing. With the exception of dreams, she was a stranger to him in all ways. There should be _no_ such urge.

Her face took on a deathly pallor and he expected to hear a cough. There was none. "The other guy. Your friend, _Derek_," she sneered the name in disgust. She raised her wrists toward him. "Since you're in charge now, can you untie me? And water? Please," she croaked.

He was tempted to comply with both requests, but Torin shook his head. "I can't untie you yet. Later. As for water, give me a sec." He walked over to the mini-fridge and grabbed a cold bottle of water. With the new additions to their household, the mini-fridge was a godsend. He could not afford to go to the kitchen for a nice cold drink every time he was thirsty.

He twisted off the cap in front of her to show the water was not tampered with. He contemplated sitting down next to her but thought better of it. He remembered the punch and could not get caught unaware again.

At arm's length, he placed the bottle in her outstretched hands and inspected the open gashes. She mumbled a quick "thank you" and drank only a mouthful of water.

Torin knew she was thirstier than she let on. He heard the dryness in her throat when she spoke earlier. "That's all you're going to drink? Drink more."

She eyed him warily. "Is this a new tactic? Good cop, bad cop or something?"

He let out an exasperated sigh. "I promise you that nothing is in the water. I opened it in front of you and it's not poisoned. I'll drink some as proof."

She chuckled weakly. "Death by blood loss doesn't sound as cool as being poisoned, does it?"

"Blood loss?" He did not realize how serious her wounds were and it reminded him of how fragile humans were. He did not heal as fast as the other immortals from serious injuries, but he never had to worry about bleeding out. He was usually more concerned with cause of death being sickness, not death by injuries.

Still no cough. Torin concluded that she must be like Ashlyn, who withstood the effects of Disease longer than most humans. But how long would she last?

"I feel like crap. Like… I think I'm dying. Who knows how much blood I lost and I saw myself." She gestured down to her body, and let out an almost hysterical chuckle. "Dehydration is the least of my worries. I probably need stitches, and I doubt he brought me here so you can patch me up. You're here to kill me." She leaned her head against the headboard and closed her eyes in resignation.

"I told you that I'm _not_ going to kill you. First, tell me—" A short ring tone cut him off and he cursed. He would never get answers, much less her name, at this rate.

He checked his phone and read a text from Sabin: Injured intruder in fort looking 4 escape. Check cams.

_Shit_. He ran out of time. Doubt was preying on her mind and it would only worsen if he didn't call Sabin off. The fact that Sabin texted him would mean that he was searching for the intruder and that everyone would soon know of her presence if they didn't already.

With the experience of an avid texter, Torin replied: Got it taken care of. Keep doubt and info of intruder 2 yourself. Will explain later.

Sabin texted back: Done & done, but Lucien already knows. Prob on his way 2 U.

Torin knew he had less than a couple of minutes before Lucien would come knocking at his door. Yes, Lucien could flash right into his room, but all of the warriors' rooms called for the utmost privacy. Not even cameras were allowed. He heard three sharp knocks along with his name at the door. Before he could respond, Lucien barged in, shouting his name once more.

Torin didn't have the heart to reprimand the intrusion when he saw the fear in Lucien's eyes turn to relief. "Thank the gods. Sabin told me there might be a Hunter inside and—"

"Hunters?" The one-worded question was enough to stop Lucien mid-sentence and turn his attention from Torin to the mystery woman. She gasped at the sight of Lucien's scarred face. The shocked look quickly turned into a dreamy expression and her eyelids dropped half way. "Is it just me, or do I smell roses?" she asked in a dazed voice.

"Lucien!" Torin barked, knocking her out of her stupor. "I need to talk to you. In the hall."

He did _not_ like her reaction to Lucien's presence. A woman never looked at Lucien's scarred face with dreamy eyes except Anya, and if anything, _he_ should be the one to put that kind of look on her face. Torin chased the ridiculous notion away as a thought struck him. Lucien only collected souls from the dead, not the dying. Was she so close to death that Lucien's trademark scent appealed to her? Lull her into a peaceful state before she took her last breath? He did not like where his thoughts were leading to. The conversation with Lucien would have to be short so he could tend to her wounds. During the questioning, of course.

Lucien was already out in the hall when Torin snapped out of his thoughts. He looked over to the petite woman and said, "Stay right there. Don't move or you'll bleed more. I'm going to talk to my friend out there, and then I will stitch you up." She nodded and he heard a sigh of relief when he left the room.

Torin twisted the truth about his dream-lover. He did not disclose information about the All-Key or that she was his lover (Lucien would probably assume that anyway). What he did tell Lucien was that Cronus presented him a chance to meet and possibly touch a woman with the pretense she would not sicken from his touch. An easy truth to tell. The fact that he said Cronus considered her a reward and incentive for Torin so that he would give Cronus more than just a tidbit of information at a time was a lie he hoped Lucien would believe.

He also told Lucien about Cronus' cruel joke when he discovered his encounter with her was a life-like dream. He thought he was dreaming again when she appeared in his bed. This made Lucien more suspicious of the mystery woman.

"Did it not occur to you that Cronus sent her to you in dreams because she's a Hunter? Or Bait?" Lucien's heart went out to the immortal warrior whose demon deprived him of physical comfort of any kind.

Torin scrubbed his face with a gloved hand. "I don't think she's either. You didn't see all her wounds. They fucking carved infinity loops on her body."

Gently, Lucien said, "It's not the first time Bait came to us injured to lower our guards."

Torin hated when Lucien played devil's advocate, but he was right. Women, injured or not, did not appear in their beds out of thin air. If someone or some god flashed her there, it was because she had an ulterior motive.

Torin closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "I know, I know. I thought of that, but it doesn't explain _why_ she's here. She can't be a Hunter. She's unarmed, and they wouldn't send one here in such a sorry state. I thought she might be Bait. It would make the most sense, but what doesn't make sense is why they would send her to _me_."

The unspoken question was loud and clear. Why send Bait to seduce the only warrior who would inadvertently kill her once there was physical contact? It was a setup for failure. Bait had low chances of survival to begin with, and sending her to the keeper of Disease eliminated _any_ chance of survival. It didn't help either that the chances of luring Torin out of the fortress were slim to none.

It was silent for a moment before he spoke again.

"She punched me in the face," Torin grumbled unhappily.

"What?"

"I said she pun—"

"I heard what you said." Lucien scowled. Bait did not attack their targets. Their purpose was to seduce, lure, or get information. "And you still don't think she's a Hunter? Doesn't matter now. She has a day at most. I'm sorry, Torin, but we can't send her to a hospital without knowing who she is or who sent her."

"That's the thing. She punched me a while ago with her bare hands, and nothing. _No coughing. _Maybe she won't be affected as quickly, I don't know. I don't know when it's going to start, but I'll get answers before it does."

"Immortal, perhaps? We'll move her to the dungeon, and one of the others can—"

"No!" Torin snarled and his eyes flashed red, taking Lucien by surprise. "She's _mine_ to question, and she says she's human. I'm not going to waste time sending her to a dungeon or waste any more time speaking with you."

As if to signal the finality of their conversation, a hacking cough could be heard from his room.

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><p><em>AN: Another bad girl move. I decided to cut the chapter here, because... well, it ends so well here. _

_As usual: Reviews not required, but very welcome. I always look forward to reading them. Constructive criticism and/or praise is appreciated :D _


	6. Two Minutes

**A/N:** I'm alive and I didn't forget about you guys or this story! My update average was pretty good up until now... I guess we're going to have to fix that. Hopefully the length of this chapter makes up for the lack of update.

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><p>Chapter 6:<strong> <em>Two Minutes<em>**

The sounds of coughing extinguished the small amount of hope in Torin that he didn't know he was holding onto. Hope that there was some ring of truth to Cronus' advertisement of the woman.

"I'll call if I need anything," Torin's clipped tone and hard stare conveyed a clear message. Don't bother coming in and don't interrupt.

Priorities. Threaten not to treat her if she didn't answer his questions or interrogate during the stitching? Apparently, he could not follow through with priorities when it came to his dream-lover. Top priority questions were not asked the first opportunity he had, and now he found himself indecisive between two choices. Get the medical supplies or check on her? Against his better judgment, he decided on the latter.

He left behind a stunned Lucien and closed the door to his room.

Dream-lover took a sharp intake of breath at his sudden appearance, winced, and coughed violently. He stood there helplessly and waited for the fit to pass.

When she caught a breath, she scolded him, "Holy crap! You shouldn't sneak up on people like that."

"Would you like more water?" Torin asked. He remembered that water soothed his would-be lover after the coughing fits.

She shook her head. "After choking on some? No, thank you."

"You were coughing…" his eyes trailed down to the bottle in her hands, "because of _water_?" His tone was as incredulous as the look on his face.

"Oh, don't look at me like it's never happened to you before," she said exasperatedly. Realizing who she was talking to, she immediately looked sheepish. "So is the guy with the," she waved a finger over her face, "coming back? Is he getting the medic?"

Torin gritted his teeth. She wanted Lucien? Too bad. "He has a fiancé."

She wrinkled her brows. "Oh… okay…" Whether he heard disappointment or confusion, Torin didn't know.

"I'll be tending to your wounds."

She deadpanned. "What? Do you even know what to do? What about those lab coat guys? They look like they're handy with… medical stuff."

His mouth was itching to ask all the questions he failed to utter. It didn't help that her request for the _lab coat guys_ added another set of questions to his list.

"I have centuries' worth of experience so you are in safe hands. We have much to discuss, but first, _I_ will be tending to you." He left to get the medical supplies before she could either approve or protest.

The last time he stitched someone up was before he isolated himself in the fortress. Experience, he had plenty of, but was out of practice. _Should be like riding a bike. _Forget the fact that he never touched a bike, but a warrior did not ride bicycles. Not even a hermit warrior. It should be like riding a horse or driving.

He returned with the supplies and found her head limp against her shoulder. He froze. She couldn't be dead. It was too soon.

"Woman!" His outburst caused her to jump in alarm, and he found himself being able to move again.

She made a strangled noise of frustration. "You have _got_ to stop doing that!"

Torin mumbled a quick apology and settled down next to her, setting the supplies aside. He pulled out the knife that was strapped to his back and said, "Hands."

Eager to be free of the ropes, she lifted her hands to him. He took his time in working the knife through the thick ropes. A quick flick of the knife would do, but he did not want to aggravate the irritated skin of her wrists.

He cut through the last piece and she sighed. With a small smile, she said, "Sun."

"Pardon?"

"My name, it's Sun. Better than calling me woman." _Sun._ The name was short and sweet. He thought it was quite fitting for his petite dream-lover. The name was also simple, which was ill-fitting, considering her presence was far from simple.

"Sun." His voice became husky as he tried the name on his tongue.

He noticed her pale cheeks pinken slightly, and her lips formed a thin line. "My feet are tied up, too."

"After when I cut through the last of these ropes, I'm going to have to cut through your clothing to treat your wounds." At his words, she folded her arms over her chest.

Torin contained the smirk that threatened to appear on his face. _Nothing I haven't seen before._ He knew every mark on her body, felt every curve. Technically.

Sun stiffly nodded, much to his surprise. He thought she would put up a fight.

"I'll treat the worst wounds first, and then we'll work our way down to the smaller ones." He easily cut through the ropes with his knife and placed it back in its holder. He wasn't going to cut through the clothes with a knife. That would mean unnecessary pulling and tugging. Good old-fashioned scissors were perfect for the job.

He positioned the scissors at the outer seam of her jeans and looked at her. She gave another nod to grant permission. The jeans were already torn here and there, but there was enough material that cutting was necessary in order to properly bandage her wounds.

His body was keenly aware of how close he was to another living body, especially a female, but it became even more aware as the scissors passed her knees and were now travelling up her thigh. Tension shot through his body. He forced his eyes to stay on the scissors. At the last cut, he saw a flash of aqua blue and averted his eyes.

Torin moved onto the other leg and struggled to keep the same steady pace as he worked his way up. _Blue panties, blue panties, blue panties. _He chanted the phrase in his head while wondering what kind of panties she wore. He'd seen Cameo's panties countless of times, but he'd never peeled them off her body like he did with Sun.

Another flash of that bright blue. A bikini? Or maybe a thong? _Focus, Torin!_ He lifted the top layer of the jeans to fold it over.

"Hold on. It's easier this way," Sun uncrossed her arms and brought them down to her sides. Bearing some of her weight on her hands and feet, she lifted her legs and butt off the bed, arms shaking. Torin quickly removed the jeans that were under her.

Boyshorts. With lace. Not entirely blue like he thought. White underwear with accents of aqua blue lace. The lace trimmings were thick at the waist and thin at the leg openings. _Focus! _Torin pried his eyes away from the teasing lace, and examined the wounds he would soon stitch. Stitching was easy. Keeping his eyes from roaming was not.

Torin prepared the disinfectant, suture, and needle. Sterilization was key in preventing infection. Humans were weak creatures. He would not risk endangering her health further when she was already weakened by injuries.

He ignored the sounds of rustling as he put latex gloves over his black ones. It didn't hurt to be extra cautious. Torin repositioned himself next to her. Not as close as he would've liked, but close enough so that he may suture the wound quickly and efficiently.

"I'm ready whenever you are," she said. He looked up and saw a glimmer of trust in her eyes. Ah, so that's what the rustling was about. She was hugging his pillow against her chest for comfort, chin resting on the pillow. The sight made his heart ache. He wanted to hold her, comfort her, if not for his infectious touch.

"Try not to move. I'll do this as quickly as possible." Her leg stiffened in discomfort when he cleaned the wound, and she hissed in pain at the first prick of the needle. _Harden your heart_, he told himself.

His skills did not diminish after all this time. The countless years of experience were ingrained in Torin's hands. Yes, this was like riding a bike.

"I didn't doubt you for a second."

The corners of his lips quirked. "Oh really?"

"Yes. No… Okay, maybe. You were staring so hard at the scissors that I thought you were trying to burn holes through the jeans instead of cutting them," she chortled.

So she noticed. He enjoyed her laughter, but he could not understand how she could be so… nonchalant. "Are you usually so chatty when someone stitches your wounds?"

"I never had stitches before and talking keeps me occupied from what you're doing," she said.

Perfect. She would talk, and he would determine if she was Bait. It did not matter if she was, and it occurred to him that he would not—could not—slay her. No other harm would befall her and he wanted to kill the one who inflicted her wounds, even if they were part of a Hunter's plan to make her look more vulnerable.

"Who is Derek? Why did he do this much… damage to you? Do you enjoy pain?" Reyes came to mind. Torin knew there were some humans who enjoyed pain, humans who took pleasure in giving or receiving it. As Bait, did she ask to be wounded?

"No!" she shouted, horrified. "Your stupid cult leader is psycho, that's why! He kidnaps me and asks ridiculous questions that I can't answer. I tell him the truth, he says it's a lie and uses me as a cutting board. I tell him what I think he wants to hear and tries to shoot me! I just want to go home…"

Torin started on treating her other leg by the time she was done rambling. Her answers were still too vague for him. He needed more. "What kinds of questions were so important that you were kidnapped?"

"Finally, someone who has some sense!" She raised her arms and head to the ceiling as if she was speaking to the gods. The pillow fell onto Torin's head. "Oops—" she grabbed the pillow and pulled it close to her body and gently patted his head, surprising him. "Sorry about that. Continue on with your fine work."

That was the second time she touched him. He preferred the punch. Her second touch left him craving for more. More was something he could never have. More was something that Cameo never asked for.

"I've been telling him that I don't know anything. You have the wrong person. I don't know anything about demons or lords or—"

"Lords? Hunters believe you have information about the Lords? What kind of information?" Torin interjected. The familiar feeling of guilt sparked in his chest. Guilt because she was hurt because of him. Because of the Lords. He never fully believed her to be Bait. Only suspected her as was their habit.

"Hunters?" she scoffed. "Do you have to pay to reach the hunter level or is that what you're all called? Do all your _guests _stay in a glass room or am I special?"

"Glass room?" He didn't need confirmation to know she was imprisoned. _Lab coat guys_, she had said. The pieces were starting to fit, and Torin should've been happy about it but was not. Gwen, Sabin's Harpy, was found imprisoned in glass along with other female immortals back in Egypt. The Lords discovered that Hunters raped those females so that they may raise the children to become immortal Hunters.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. Was she lying about being human? Worse, was she raped?

Liquid rage ran through his blood at the thought of a male forcing himself on her small body. Torin would find that man. Hunt him down and torture him in ways the poor bastard wouldn't be able to imagine. It had been years since he had beaten anyone down to a pulp, and he planned on taking his time. Locate him and get his fellow men to bring the Hunter to the dungeon, where he would—

"Hey. Hey!" Sun shook Torin's shoulder, snapping him out of his reverie. Third touch today. "You okay? I lost you there for a minute, and I kinda need you to concentrate."

"Were you raped?" he asked in a harsh whisper. "Hunters do not put humans in those glass prisons. Are you truly human? Were there other females? How long were you there?" The questions poured out of him. He had to know.

She blinked at him. "Uh… that's a lot to answer at once… Why are you asking if I'm human like I'm not? I'm not a demon if that's what you think!"

"Answer the first question!" he growled—_The most important one,_ he thought—"Did they rape you?"

Sun shook her head violently. "Thank God, no. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm glad they tied me up. I wouldn't stop kicking," she said almost proudly. "I don't know how long I was there but they didn't bring anyone else in the whole time I was there. It was just me."

"Do you know how you got here?" _And appear in my bed,_ he wanted to add. "Did a man or woman bring you?"

"I don't know. They put me in a dark room. I pissed Derek off enough to come into the room. I saw a gun and… I don't know. I don't remember. I woke up here." It had to be the work of the gods. There was no other explanation. As punishment or reward, he didn't care. His only concern was to heal her and send her home.

The scissors made another appearance to cut clothing. Torin cut through the sides of the shirt, just as he did with the jeans. Thankfully, the time it took to cut through both sides was mercifully short. He needed to put distance between them. The scent of sunshine and fruit invaded his nose. Too close. He was too close to a human. A female.

"Oh God, this is embarrassing," she muttered. She covered her face as the shirt fell away from her body.

Her elbows covered her breasts, but it did nothing to hide the red color of her bra. Sweet gods, there was that teasing trim of lace again, this time in black. The moment to enjoy was short-lived. Her ribs were horribly bruised, the mottled coloring calling for his attention. Gingerly, Torin pressed the area and she winced.

"Does it hurt to breathe?"

"It used to. Now it's uncomfortable."

"I'm going to kill him." Already, Torin was creating the details of what he was going to do to the Hunter in his head.

"Why? Was I not supposed to be hurt this badly?" she asked bitterly.

"No, you shouldn't have been hurt at all. He will die for harming you."

Sun narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "That's great and all… but why? Is being a Hunter not what you thought it would be?"

"I'm not a Hunter." The thought that she would think him a Hunter was revolting and insulting. How would she take the news if he told her he was a Lord? That the trauma she went through was because of him?

Torin felt her gaze on him as he bandaged the remaining wounds on her torso.

"If you're not a Hunter, then what are you? _Who are you_?" The pillow returned to its nestled position in front of her. The small trust she seemed to have in him disappeared.

"I am an immortal, a Lord of the Underworld, and an enemy to the Hunters who've captured you. A god has brought you here, for what reason, I do not know. You are here in our fortress, safe from Hunters."

She stared at him, digesting the news. Harsh laughter broke the heavy silence.

"You're joking, right? First I get caught by Hunters and now I'm in the hands of their archenemy? Who, by the way is immortal." She laughed once more, devoid of all happiness. "You're actually a Hunter and you trying to see if I'm telling the truth. Right? I'm not dumb."

"No, I'm not joking and you are not dumb. You are safe. No one is going to hurt you here."

"Do all Hunters have an infinity tattoo on their wrists?"

"Yes."

She studied him and Torin almost squirmed under her scrutinizing glare. Brown eyes trailed down from his face to his chest, to his arms, and finally settled on his hands.

"Take off the gloves." His body responded to her words. It was one of Cameo's many instructions for him, and he was sure that Sun did not say them with the same mindset that Cameo had. No, she had her own reasons.

"No." He could not risk another exposure. Even now, he was waiting for her to cough.

"Every one of them—the Hunters—had a tattoo on their wrist." She squared her shoulders. "Show me your wrists or I won't believe you."

Torin crumbled under her request. They would go nowhere if she believed him to be a Hunter. It was also disgusting to be mistaken as one. "Fine. But no touching."

"Fine."

Torin stripped off each glove, exposing every inch of skin for her inspection. He felt her gaze on his arm and his erection twitched. He was grateful that he was sitting and not standing.

"Here. Look." He presented his hands, palms up, to her.

"See? Not a Hun—" Sun's latched onto his wrists and jerked them close to her. Shock and bliss kept Torin from wrenching his hands away from her hold.

She examined them carefully, turning them over, touching his wrists with her thumbs as if doing so would make the tattoo appear. He nearly came when he felt the feather light touches come across the inside of his wrists, over his pulse points. Memories of how those hands once touched him surfaced to the forefront to his mind. _It wasn't real_, he chided himself.

"Okay, no tattoo. It doesn't mean you're _not_ a Hunter either."

"I told you not to touch me," he said, tearing his hands away from her grip.

"Sorry, I didn't know my touch was so offensive," she said hotly. A blush crept up on her cheeks. "I know I'm dirty and I'm pretty sure I smell, but it's not like—"

"No," he said hastily, "I did not mean to sound offended; I'm not." He did not want to frighten her by telling her the reason of his No Touch Policy. There was no way to sugarcoat the consequences of housing Disease. What could he say? _Who can start the Black Plague with a single touch?—_point to self—_This guy._ Certainly not. She needed a little background information.

"There is a reason why I said no touching. Bad things happen when living beings touch me."

"Cooties?" She interrupted his segue into their history with the Hunters.

"If it's a disease, possibly, but ultimately death will follow." Torin didn't know much about human diseases but _cooties_ sounded contagious. "As I was saying, the gods cursed us thousands of years ago to house a demon within ourselves." He couldn't bring himself to mention _dimOuniak_. They all paid dearly for their pride, each warrior suffering in their own way.

At first, shunning all physical contact seemed like a simple solution; easy. But like an untreated wound, the dull ache for a simple touch festered into loneliness. He would never again feel a gruff slap on the shoulder for a job well done from his friends or get to experience a soft warm body next to his. It was too big a risk.

"Hunters foolishly blame us for everything evil and believe that destroying us would ultimately eliminate all the evil in the world. They forget about free will." His upper lip curled as if each word left a sour taste in his mouth.

"Okay, I'll bite. Hunters are overzealous save-the-world idiots who think the Lords are the source of all evil. If you're demon-possessed, then what demon do you carry?"

Torin made his way to the dresser. "You need fresh clothes. Why would Hunters think you have information about us?" Of course she would ask which demon possessed him. He should have answered right away, but he wanted a little more time. A little more time before the knowledge of Disease made her scramble away from him in horror.

"Either you're stalling to think of an answer or you're avoiding the question. What demon?"

"Disease. The last time I touched someone, it started the Black Plague." He waited for the revulsion, the panic, to come across her face. He stayed by the dresser, which was a good distance away from the bed, and tossed the clothes to her.

"Oh… well okay then. Would you mind turning around so I can put some clothes on?" Her nonchalance was unsettling. She didn't believe him.

Torin's patience snapped. He didn't have time to convince her that he spoke the truth. He wanted her to live. "You don't realize the gravity of the situation. You _touched_ me. Skin to skin. That means you are infected with disease—you have been—ever since you punched me. Some people take longer for symptoms to show. It always starts the same: a simple cough. Then there's fever and the coughing gets worse. You cough up blood. The end is always the same. Death."

Her cheeks heated to a dark pink. "I do realize the gravity of the situation. I also realize that I'm still in my underwear in front of a strange man-nurse and the only thing that is making me look decent is this pillow," she huffed. "I'd just like some privacy. _Please_. You're one of the good guys, aren't you?" She looked up at him from under her lashes, her eyes pleading with soft desperation. It broke his resolve to say no; he would grant her this if it would comfort her in some small way.

He was reluctant to take his eyes off her. It had nothing to do with the teasing allure of her lace-trimmed underwear, but that each time he left her, there would be some incident. Each one—thank the gods—was a false alarm. How many more false alarms would the gods provide?

He crossed his arms. "Two minutes. I turn around in two minutes whether you are done or not."

A sigh of relief expelled from her lungs. "Thank you."

Once his back was turned to her, the pillow hit the floor with a soft thud. He forced his body to stay in place and kept his eyes glued to the wall. It was no different than when he avoided Paris' fleshfest videos.

_Touch again! Turn and touch!_ Disease commanded. Torin ignored Disease as usual. Damn thing didn't shut up around people.

He should've said one minute, not two. She wasn't strong enough. He heard her stumble, curse, and grunt as she struggled to put his clothes on. _His _clothes. A wave of possessiveness shot through his body; the desire for more making its presence known once again in his chest. Torin squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for it to pass. He wanted her to live, and that meant he could not keep her.

No signs of movement could be heard.

Torin turned and was greeted with an empty bed. His pants were on the floor in the form of a split, making a trail to an open door.

She was gone.

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><p><em>Quick question for you guys: Do you guys carelike if there's a chapter title or not? Poll is in my profile for those of you shy readers ;)_

_Reviews not required, but welcome! I see that they made reviewing easier, so feel free to review! Anonymous ones are welcome too (for you shy ones out there :D ) Plus, reviews make authors happyyyy_


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